Lupus Deus Est
by Solstice Zero
Summary: Jack, Gwen and Ianto travel to Scotland to investigate claims of mutilated cattle – all coinciding with the night of the full moon. Now Complete. NOTE: I've removed the last two chapters for serious editing. They'll be back eventually.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note**: Hello again! Well, this one looks like it's going to be fun. I'm thinking of maybe doing a series of monster stories for the Halloween season. I've obviously started with werewolves. The outline says that this story will have four chapters and an epilogue. That might change, but so far, that's the breakdown. Hope you like it!  
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_**This fic contains spoilers for Doctor Who Season Two Episode Two, "Tooth and Claw". And you sort of won't get it unless you've seen that episode. You should watch it. I promise it's good. One of my favorites, actually.**_

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"Torchwood House?" Gwen closed the door to the SUV, reading incredulously from the sign that hung over the entrance of the large, faded building.

Jack grinned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back to get a good look at it. "Built in 1500 by the MacLeish family, purchased by the crown in 1879 after the death of the Sir Robert MacLeish." He looked at Gwen. "This was the first Torchwood headquarters."

She stared up at it, imposing in the storm-dulled light of the late afternoon. "What is it now?"

"A tourist trap." Ianto stepped out of the SUV and slammed the door, hardly glancing up at the house, instead looking out across the vast overgrown fields that surrounded it in every direction.

Jack glanced in his direction. "Not a fan of travel, Ianto?"

"Not when it's to Scotland, no."

"I thought you'd like Scotland. They have the same feelings for sheep as Wales."

Ianto leaned against the SUV. "Thank you, Jack, for so elegantly reducing my homeland to a bunch of lecherous shepherds."

"Doesn't the phrase 'lecherous shepherds' just roll off the tongue?"

"Welcome!" A new voice swept toward them from the front doors, carrying a woman in its wake. She was a bit stout, with an absolutely merry face, and as she approached she held out a hand. "I'm Louisa, the Torchwood House caretaker."

Jack took her hand and kissed it. She flushed and giggled; Ianto rolled his eyes hugely. "Captain Jack Harkness. This is Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones."

"Lovely to meet you all. How can I help you?"

"We were hoping to have a look around."

She looked positively delighted. "I could give you the tour, if you like! Hardly anyone comes out all of this way to see the house. It would be a pleasure."

"Sounds great." Jack smiled and she turned, indicating for them to follow her. He glanced at Ianto, whose eyes were going to drop into the dirt if he kept it up.

Gwen followed the woman and Jack started after her, but Ianto caught his sleeve and said very quietly, "We're here to investigate mutilated livestock."

Jack gestured at the building. "Local knowledge! If anyone knows anything about what happens here, she does."

Ianto stared at Jack with a deadpan expression.

Jack smiled. "You'll like it, I promise. It's old in the best possible ways." He turned and followed Gwen and Louisa toward the house.

Ianto pulled his jacket closer around himself and walked after him, a frown deeply creasing his face.

- - -

Twenty minutes later, Ianto couldn't help but agree with Jack's sentiments on the place. It _was_ old in the best possible ways. And when they came to the observatory, Jack's cocky grin told him all about his own expression.

"The Endeavor Telescope," Louisa said expansively, gesturing at the huge, beautiful piece of equipment facing out of a high window. "Built by Sir George MacLeish. He was a remarkable man. Very ahead of his time in the areas of science and maths." She smiled, watching Ianto approach the telescope. "A good friend of Prince Albert."

Ianto touched the cogwheel on the side of the telescope. "Is this the original model?"

"No, unfortunately," Louisa said. "It's in private hands, now."

Behind her head, Jack mouthed to Ianto, _Torchwood Two._

Ianto smirked and went back to examining the telescope. Gwen was on the other side, running her hand along the shining surface of it.

Jack spoke from near the door. "Louisa, have you been hearing anything about the livestock in this area?"

Louisa frowned. "Oh, it's terrible what's been happening! They've found a few dozen animals torn apart over the last few years. It's gotten worse of late." She dropped her voice to a conspirator's whisper, "And always after the night of the full moon!"

"You think that has something to do with it?" Jack looked amused, but glancing at him, Ianto could see the actual interest in his eyes.

Louisa waved her hands. "Those are just kids' stories, really."

"Tell us," Gwen said, leaning against a windowsill beside the telescope. "I'm always up for a story."

"Well." Louisa smiled, looking between the three of them. "There've been legends about a werewolf in this place for ages. Hundreds of years. Since before Queen Victoria bought this house. Every full moon, they'd find animal carcasses that looked like they'd been eaten by a huge beast. And once a generation, a boy would go missing from his home."

Ianto looked at her, brow furrowed. "Why was that?"

She put up her hands. "No one knows! Then, one year, it stopped. 1879, the year Robert MacLeish died. All of the reports of livestock being eaten and children being taken cut off. Until a few years ago. Every month, another dead animal. And now, more and more. At first we thought it was just kids messing, and doing a poor job of it, hurting farmers like that, but then it kept on." She shrugged, eyes wide. "We don't have an explanation for it. It _is_ very strange, isn't it?"

Jack nodded, coming toward her. "Have there been any reports of missing children?"

She blinked. "No, not that I've heard. Well, kids go missing from the bigger cities all the time, but never around here. Hardly anyone lives here, anyway, just the farmers and the monks."

Gwen spoke from her spot near the window. "Monks?"

"Glen of Saint Catherine Monastery. They've been there well before this house was built. Very reclusive. Well, monks for you, eh? Mind you, if you're looking for a place to stay, they offer lodging, free of charge." She looked a bit apologetic. "No proper hotel anywhere near here, of course."

"Of course," Ianto said under his breath.

"Thanks for the suggestion," Jack said. "I think we'll take you up on it."

"Of course we will," Ianto sighed, louder, looking at Gwen, who held a giggle behind her hand.

Jack cut his eyes to him. "We should probably be going." He held his hand out for Louisa's. "Thank you for the tour."

"No problem at all!" She accepted his hand, and he raised it to his lips. She blushed again. "Come back any time."

Jack smiled. "We will." He looked to Ianto and Gwen. "Come on. Time to meet some monks."

- - -

The monastery was difficult to miss. The Glen of Saint Catherine wasn't so much a town as a collection of farms, widely spaced, at the center of which stood a sprawling set of buildings, some tall and beautifully ornate, some squat and dark, all of them connected by courtyards and open passages. It was, like most religious buildings built in the early centuries, a breathtaking sight.

As they began to exit the SUV, a man in a black robe crunched over the car park gravel toward them. The heavy light of the setting sun lit him, and the ancient-looking stone spires of the monastery, from behind, lending both a heavenly sort of glow. Jack met him halfway and held out a hand. "Captain Jack Harkness. Louisa at Torchwood House recommended that we see about staying here."

The man in the robe smiled, shaking Jack's hand. "Louisa does well to send people our way. My name is Brother Ewan. How long will you be staying?"

"Few days, probably. We're investigating the reports of livestock mutilation from farms in the area." Jack looked over his shoulder to nod at Gwen and Ianto, who began to take their bags out of the SUV.

"Is that right?" Father Ewan smiled toward Gwen and Ianto, then looked back at Jack. "I hope that you find whatever has been causing it. I pray that no human is to blame. Shall I show you to where you will be staying?"

"Sounds good." He gestured for Gwen and Ianto to come with them, and Brother Ewan started back toward the entrance of the monastery. Jack waited for the two of them to reach him – and Ianto immediately pushed his own suitcase into his arms.

"We aren't your porters."

Then he kept moving, past Jack, following Brother Ewan.

Jack raised an eyebrow at Gwen. "What's his problem?"

Gwen shrugged, starting after him. "No idea. He's been quiet since we left Torchwood House."

Jack laughed. "When is Ianto not quiet?"

"More quiet than usual, then. Don't be daft, Jack."

He held up his free hand in surrender. They crossed the threshold and entered the monastery. Above them, colored light shone down from a huge stained glass window and left its yellow, blue, red traces on the stone floor. Brother Ewan smiled at them and swept an arm toward a corridor leading deeper into the building, bowing slightly. They moved on, with the monk falling in behind them.

"Where is everyone?" Gwen asked after a moment, peering down each hall and into each room as they passed.

"Right now is the time for quiet study or work in the monastery gardens, before coming together for Vespers." Seeing Gwen's confusion at the term, Brother Ewan explained, "Evening prayers. You are welcome to join us, if you like."

Jack shook his head. "Sorry, Brother. We've been on the road all day. Maybe we'll take you up on that tomorrow."

"It's no problem, Captain." He stopped and gestured at three open doors. "Will these rooms be acceptable?"

Jack peered inside one of them. "They look fine." He looked back at the monk. "Thank you, Brother Ewan."

"My pleasure. I'll send one of the Brethren down to collect you for the evening meal after Vespers. Is there anything that you need right now?"

"No, thank you."

Brother Ewan bowed slightly, his black robe shifting forward, then straightened and walked off down the corridor, disappearing as he turned a corner.

Gwen looked into the middle room, tracing her hand along the wall until she found the light switch and flicked it on. Her face fell at the sight of it. Small, dark, sparsely decorated and, she noticed as she stepped in, very cold. "Brilliant," she muttered.

"Free," Jack said behind her, smirking. "You've probably had worse nights in bad hotels. And I've found that the grub in these places is fantastic."

"Been to a lot of monasteries, have you?" Gwen dropped her suitcase on the bed and wandered over to a small mirror hung over a narrow chest of drawers, pulling at her travel-mussed hair.

"A few." He heard a door close and looked out into the hall. Ianto was gone, and the door to the right of Gwen's was shut. He frowned.

Gwen looked at him. "They probably won't appreciate you being in a lady's room, Jack." She smirked.

He laughed. "Guess not. See you at dinner, then."

Gwen sighed wistfully. "I'm going to take a _nap_, and it's going to be _lovely._"

"You do that." He stepped out of her room and shut the door behind him. Then he opened his own door, turned on the light and went inside.

- - -

After the meal, Gwen went straight back to her room, her eyes still lidded from what brief sleep she'd had. The monks, all silent as they ate at the long table – and not many of them Jack noticed; about thirty in all – retired for private prayer. And Ianto disappeared. So Jack went to find him.

He wasn't in his room. The SUV was still in the car park. So Jack wandered the halls of the monastery as quietly as possible, feeling its heavy presence pressing down on him from the high ceilings etched with images of faith; saints, crosses, robed men. The wide-eyed stares from the faces in the portraits in the halls, which looked out from beneath wide halos, hands raised in peace, made Jack uncomfortable, and he averted his eyes. They watched him pass without comment.

He found Ianto in the monastery church, leaning against a pillar in the rear of the large, beautiful room. It was lit only with tiers of candles at either end, and they cast an eerie light on the small form of him, flickering across his face as he stared up at the crucifix hung over the distant altar. Jack approached slowly, letting his footsteps ring and reverberate from the walls and vaulted ceiling. Ianto didn't look at him. He positioned himself against the pillar next to Ianto's, facing him, putting his back to the dark wood and his hands in his pocket, letting his eyes follow Ianto's gaze to the lit figure hanging at the top of the church. They stood like that in silence for a moment.

Finally, Ianto said, "When I was a kid, I was afraid of crucifixes. I read a story where all of the Christs on all of the crosses in the world came to life and tried to escape. Their churches had to nail them back to the wood, and they would bleed for days, screaming. I was afraid that the Christ on the crucifix that my dad hung next to my door would escape, and we'd have to nail him back, and I'd have to listen to him scream."

Jack watched his face, the passiveness there, and the intensity beneath, only noticeable in the slight rise in the rate of his breathing, the quick rise and fall of his chest beneath his suit jacket, almost hidden by the flickering quality of the light. "I didn't know that your father was religious."

Ianto nodded. "He made me go to church. Every Sunday until I was eleven, when I ran away to avoid it." He looked up, tracing the dark rafters with his eyes. "These places always remind me of him. That feeling of knowing what the priest is saying is wrong. Not being able to do anything about it. Being forced to go and never wanting to." He dropped his eyes. "Places like this are beautiful and dangerous."

Jack smiled softly. "That's sort of wise."

Ianto shrugged, bringing his eyes back up to the cross.

Jack looked up to where the pillar he leaned against met the ceiling. "Where I grew up – _when_ I grew up – we didn't have religion like this." Ianto looked at him, surprised. He continued, distantly. "Well, there was religion. But it was more like the older religions. Celtic, almost. Polytheistic, nature-based. Religion never really loses the basic tenants. A higher power, do no harm. Those things are central to most religions, probably forever."

Ianto furrowed his brow, watching Jack. "Why do we do it? Why do humans seek a higher power, a creator?"

Jack shook his head slowly. "It isn't just humans. It's everyone. Every self-aware creature looks for what made it."

"But why?"

Jack met his eyes. "We don't want chaos to be the explanation. We want to know that we're here for a purpose."

Ianto frowned. "But – we aren't. We're an accident. Chaos _is_ the explanation."

Jack grinned. "Try telling that to the Vatican."

Ianto copied his grin. "I'm sure it's been attempted."

Jack came forward and wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist. "And they were probably thrown down the steps with their charts and diagrams."

Ianto put his head on Jack's shoulder. "The Pope threw his hat after them in a fit of rage."

There was the sound of footsteps and the brush of robes against the slate floor, and a gaunt, tall monk appeared from the hall, holding a large snuffer. Jack released Ianto and stepped back. "Come on," he said. "Lots to do tomorrow. Farmers to interview, dead sheep to inspect. And there's the full moon."

He started for the doors and Ianto followed, bearing one brief glance back as the lone monk extinguished the final candle, and the room went dark.

* * *

_**A/N 2:** That story Ianto describes really exists. "Salvation" by Lawrence Person. Google it. It's short and terrifying. _

_Sorry there was no actual wolfy goodness in this chapter. But we do have ominous monks. They're always fun.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

In the long hallway leading to the monastery church, waves of light fell through stained glass windows and onto the dark floor, leaving patches of diaphanous color. Ianto walked into and out of the light, the images in the windows projected now on his face, now on the floor as he made his way toward the church, inexplicably drawn to the voices there. The monks were singing their morning prayers. Ianto had heard this sort of singing in his youth, tucked uncomfortably into church clothes and fidgeting incessantly with the hymnal stored in the pew in front of him, but there was something –

He didn't know.

He entered the church silently and leaned against a pillar at the back once more, eerily similar to his position from the night before. The monks – there really were very few of them; he could remember being told that there were often over a hundred monks in a monastery at any one time – sat together near the front, most of the pews entirely empty.

A hand fell on Ianto's arm, and he looked to see Jack standing beside him. He had his eyebrows raised in a question.

"I heard them," Ianto said in an undertone. "From my room. Doesn't it sound – off, to you?"

Jack listened for a moment, his eyes going distant, turned toward the dark, singing congregation. Then he shook his head, brow furrowed. "I don't hear anything." He looked to Ianto. "What do you mean, 'off'?"

Ianto frowned. "I don't know." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Come on. Gwen will wonder where we are." He turned and led the way back down the hall, Jack close behind.

- - -

Gwen was obviously pleased with the allotment of tasks for the day. "You two have fun poking at dead cattle!" she said, jingling the keys to the SUV in her hand. "That house had central heating and I can probably swing a proper shower."

Ianto yawned, leaning in her doorway. "You would have been miserable company walking through the countryside, anyway."

"Ha! You don't think Jack will complain as much as I would?"

"Hey!" Jack pulled the door to his room closed and finished putting on his coat. "I think I can handle a walk through some tall grass. Get going before I switch you out with Ianto. And give my love to Louisa!"

"Glad we're so interchangeable," Ianto said, as Gwen stuck her tongue out at Jack and walked off down the hall.

Jack grinned. "Yeah, but I couldn't molest Gwen in the woods on the way."

("I heard that, Harkness!")

"Well, you could," Ianto said, beginning to move along the corridor, "But I'm fairly certain that Rhys would have something to say about it."

Jack looked around suddenly, in either direction, frowning.

"What?" Ianto asked, doing the same.

"Looking for one of our monky-monks," Jack said. "We need directions."

"One's bound to turn up." They passed two glass doors. Ianto glanced out of them – then came to an abrupt halt. "Jack," he said.

Jack turned back. "What?"

"Come here."

Jack did, coming to stand next to him and look out of the doors.

Through the glass there was a courtyard, brimming with flowers. The sun shone brightly down, making every color truly intense; the reds were all fire, the blues were all the sea. At one corner of the courtyard was a table, at which sat a monk holding a book, who looked up every few moments to keep an eye on the thing that had caught Ianto's attention.

There was a girl wandering through the flowers.

Jack frowned and pushed the doors open, stepping out onto the stone path that led through the courtyard. Ianto followed, watching as the monk at the table glanced up at them and smiled before placing his book down, laying his reading glasses on top of it and standing to greet them. He held out his hand. "Hello! I'm Brother Greer. You're our new visitors, aren't you?"

"Captain Jack Harkness," Jack said, shaking his hand.

Ianto did the same. "Ianto Jones."

"I didn't see you at dinner last night," Jack said casually, putting his hands in his pockets.

Brother Greer shook his head, smiling. He nodded toward the girl, who was moving through the beds of flowers, crouching every now and then to examine them closer. "Blaine and I eat alone in my room. The Brethren prefer not to have her at the formal table."

"Strange to see a teenage girl at a monastery," Ianto said, following her slow progress with his eyes.

"They found her," Brother Greer said, watching her, as well. "She was left at the door of the monastery seventeen years ago. No note, nothing to tie her to anyone. None of the locals knew who she was. I came here when she was twelve. She seemed to take a liking to me, so I was made her caretaker." He smiled as she carefully plucked a yellow flower and held it up to her blonde hair. "She's wonderful company."

"Is she-" Ianto couldn't think of how to finish the question, but Brother Greer gleaned his meaning and nodded.

"Touched. Came that way. It's likely the reason why she was left here. But she's very sweet. Whoever gave her up doesn't know what they're missing." Hearing herself being talked about, Blaine made her way over to Brother Greer. Ianto couldn't help but notice that she walked very slowly, very carefully, as though she had been told all of her life that she must move quietly. Reaching them, she leaned her head on Brother Greer's shoulder like a young child and stared with large eyes at Jack and Ianto.

"Hello, Blaine," Jack said, holding out a hand. "Nice to meet you."

Blaine ignored him; instead of reaching out for Jack's hand, she took Ianto's sleeve and began to lead him away. Ianto glanced back at Jack, who nodded, and he let himself be pulled along as he heard Jack begin to ask Brother Greer for directions. Blaine led him to a patch of tall, large flowers of varying colors and then let go of him, stooping down to look at them. She took her time choosing, examining each carefully before plucking it expertly from the ground. Having collected enough, she stood and turned toward Ianto, then stepped up to him, took one of the flowers and began to weave it into the top buttonhole on his jacket.

He watched her, beginning to smile to himself as her fingers worked the limp stem through the fabric and knotted it at the back so that it couldn't escape. She moved on to the next flower, from yellow to red, to the second buttonhole, working it through the same way, and then the third.

When she was finished, she stood back. A line of flowers ran down the side of Ianto's suit, all of them bright against the dark material. Ianto had been so concentrated on her as she worked that he didn't notice the approach of Jack and Brother Greer.

Until Jack said beside him, "Look, Blaine. You made Ianto beautiful."

She broke into a huge, gorgeous smile and nodded. Brother Greer wrapped an arm around her shoulder and looked appraisingly at her work. "Good job," he said. Blaine put her arms around his middle and her head back on his shoulder.

Ianto looked at Jack, wearing a very private smile.

"Come on," Jack said, putting a hand on Ianto's back. "We have a bit of a trek." He nodded at Brother Greer. "Good to meet you."

Brother Greer nodded back. "The same. Good luck."

He and Blaine watched as they walked back up the path and into the monastery, out of sight.

- - -

When the front door opened, Gwen greeted Louisa's confused expression with a bright "Hello!" and slipped inside, rubbing her hands together. "Oh, it's lovely in here. _Freezing_ outside." She turned to look back at Louisa, smiling. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," she answered, brow furrowed. "What are you doing back?"

"I wanted to take a closer look. My boss rushed us through yesterday. Do you mind if I wander a bit?"

Louisa shrugged. "Be my guest. I have some work to do, but if you need anything, just give us a shout."

"Thank you." Gwen smiled, and Louisa turned and walked down the hall, disappearing into some unknown room.

Gwen took a moment to just marvel again at the size of the place. It looked every bit its age; dark and ancient and slightly creepy. She got goosebumps, standing at the base of the stairs, staring up through the middle of the winding levels.

Jack wanted to know what happened here in 1879. He'd said that the records had been lost at some point in the past, but it was known that Queen Victoria had been in the house the night that Sir Robert MacLeish died, and that it was her experience from that night that had pushed her into forming the Torchwood Institute. _"I think it has something to do with what's happening now,"_ he'd said. _"That was the night that the reports of the wolf stopped."_

Queen Victoria had defeated a werewolf. Sometimes this job seemed like someone's idea of a joke.

- - -

The farm with the latest report of cattle mutilation was about two miles away from the monastery, as the crow flies. Jack and Ianto made the journey in pleasant silence, eschewing the roads for a more direct route over fields and through some brief copses of trees. On the way, Ianto carefully dismantled the work that Blaine had done and stored the flowers in his pocket. Jack glanced over once to see him doing it, then smiled briefly and looked away again. And it occurred to Ianto that Jack would have kept them there. He would have walked into the farmhouse with a row of flowers down the side of his greatcoat, yellow standing out brilliantly against the grey-blue, and thought nothing of the stares he might get. Jack cared much more about the good intentions of an action than the reactions of the public.

Ianto knew that he could never walk into a serious situation covered in flowers just because a child put them there. The fact didn't bother him; it was practicality. Something he was raised with. Jack didn't have that background, the personal shame of being different from other people and allowing it to be seen. It was just another difference, and an interesting one.

When they reached the farm, the farmer was more than willing to cooperate with their investigation. "They told me you'd be coming by," he said, gesturing for them to follow him into the house. "The police, I mean. They can't figure what could do this to another animal – they've ruled everything out." He pulled open a drawer to a cabinet in his dining room and began to shuffle through it. "Wolves, wild dogs. Even bears, for God's sake. They reckon it might be kids, but I don't know." He found what he was looking for, a manila folder, and set it on the table, opening it up to spread the photographs inside so that they could see. "It feels strange to me."

"Strange how?" Jack asked, picking up one of the photographs to get a better look. The sheep looked like it had been ripped apart; white wool stained almost black with dried blood, head almost severed entirely from the body, tongue lolling under two bulging eyes.

The farmer shook his head. "Hard to explain. We hear howling, but wolves are out. There aren't really any kids in the area, and none of the adults could do something like this. And there's the monks."

Ianto raised a brow. "The monks? What do they have to do with it?"

The farmer frowned. "They're a right strange bunch. Never leave their monastery, never talk to any of the locals. And I saw them, once. No one believes me on this, but I saw them carrying something big in a cage one morning a few months ago. Through Flannery's fields. And later that day he found a few of his stock in the same state that you see here." He gestured to the photographs. "I reckon they've got _something_ to do with it. Just no idea what."

Jack picked up another photo. "What did the police say when you told them about what you saw?"

The farmer scoffed. "The police think they're a right bunch of saints, the idiots. Men of God can be just as low as any other man, is my thinking."

"I think you're right." Jack looked to Ianto. "Looks like we'll be having a word with our hosts."

- - -

The stairs wound higher and higher, and Gwen paused at the top of one flight for breath – and something caught her eye. She walked toward two ornate wooden doors, which had a strange shine to them. She ran her hand along the carved designs – the texture of the wood was incredibly smooth, almost slippery. She grasped the old doorknobs and pushed the doors open at the same time, grand-entrance style.

It was a library. The afternoon light fell in little squares projected through the windows onto the plush rugs that lined the floor. Gwen stepped inside, glanced around, and jumped at the sight of a suit of armour standing just to the side of the door. She laughed at herself, then rapped her knuckles on the helmet. "You gave me a fright."

"You all right in here?" Gwen jumped again, and turned, this time met with the sight of Louisa standing in the doorway, looking apologetic. "Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you."

Gwen shook her head. "It's all right. Just a bit-"

"Spooky?" Louisa came in. "I know what you mean. Try living here, love." She smiled. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Yeah, actually," Gwen said, her eyes falling on a wood carving hanging on the back of the door. She walked over to it, reaching out to touch it. "What are these things? They're all over this room and some of the others."

"Oh, those?" Louisa shrugged. "Just decoration, I suppose. Sir George had them made. An odd thing, that, actually."

Gwen looked at her. "What about it?"

"Well, he had quite a thing for mistletoe. Those carvings are made of it, and he had the oil rubbed into these doors and the walls in this room."

Gwen thought for a moment. "Mistletoe. Like the Christmas plant?"

Louisa nodded. "It was used for other things before that tradition, though. I looked it up once, just curious. The Druids used it for healing, and they burned it to banish evil. At least, that's what it said on the internet."

Gwen let out a thoughtful hum, running her fingers over the carving. "Louisa, do you happen to know how Sir Robert MacLeish died?"

Louisa looked surprised. "Well, no, not really. It was a bit of a mystery. It's supposed to have happened suddenly, though. His wife was a wreck – sold the house to the crown and went traveling. Queen Victoria was actually visiting the night he died, on her way to have the Koh-I-Noor re-cut. She was waylaid by an assassination attempt and had to stop here. They said she was never the same after it. Very peculiar."

Another thoughtful hum from Gwen. "All of this has to connect somehow," she said quietly.

Louisa broke out of her own thoughts suddenly and asked cheerfully, "Would you like some tea? It's no trouble."

Gwen was shaken from her musing. "Sure," she said. "I'll help."

- - -

The monks were not terribly forthcoming.

It was to be expected that they might be a little hesitant to talk about the attacks, since they seemed to have nothing to do with the farmers in the area, but the level of cold-shoulder that Jack and Ianto were getting would refreeze the ice caps.

"Just a few minutes," Jack was saying in the doorway of one monk's room.

The monk shook his bald head. "I am in the middle of private study. Please leave." And he closed the door.

Jack looked at Ianto. "Tough crowd."

"Hello," came a voice from a few doors away. Brother Greer leaned smiling into the hall. "I couldn't help but notice the two of you going door to door like nuns for donations. Can I interest you in a cup of tea?"

"Yes, thanks," Ianto said, starting for the room. Brother Greer stepped aside and held the door open for them as they walked in.

The room was very different from the rooms that they had seen over the shoulders of the other monks; where theirs were sparse, Brother Greer's was densely packed with books and photographs and, inexplicably, toys.

"For Blaine," Brother Greer explained when Jack picked up a yo-yo from his mantle. "Mind you, I still play with those myself on occasion, if no one's watching. It's difficult to look saintly while attempting to walk-the-dog."

Jack grinned. "I can imagine."

Brother Greer went to a counter stacked with tea things, but Ianto stopped him. "I'll do it," he said, stepping up to the electric kettle. "No trouble."

"Thank you," Brother Greer said, then sat at an old, round wooden table, gesturing for Jack to do the same. "Now. What were you bothering the Brethren about?"

Jack leapt right into it. "The farmer with the latest report of livestock mutilation says that he saw some monks from this monastery in another farmer's fields a few months ago, carrying something in a cage. And later that day, that farmer found some of his animals dead."

Brother Greer frowned. "That's strange." He picked at the edge of the white tablecloth.

"Any reason why he would see something like that?" Ianto asked, bringing over two cups for Jack and Brother Greer, and then one for himself.

Brother Greer shrugged as Ianto sat down. "Some of the Brethren like to walk in the countryside from time to time. This thing about the cage, though. Nothing like that."

Jack met Ianto's eyes over the rim of his teacup. Brother Greer was steadily picking at the tablecloth, and not looking up at either of them.

It's difficult to look saintly when you're lying.

"Where's Blaine, by the way?" Ianto asked, settling back into his chair.

"Ah – she's off with some of the Brethren. I need some peace too, sometimes, you know." His smile looked painfully false.

"I suppose you would," Jack said.

- - -

It was already dark by the time Gwen realized that she should probably be getting back to the monastery. She and Louisa had spent the better part of three hours chatting in her little nook hidden away in the old house – a considerably less imposing place than what surrounded it; there was a lot of pink incorporated into the decoration. The conversation had started out about the house and its history, but slowly devolved into Jack, and then into Jack and Ianto – _that_ had been a fun bit of gossip to get them going, certainly. But now it was late, and Louisa waved goodbye from the door as Gwen made her way to the SUV, waving back.

Once in the driver's seat, she checked her mobile; Jack hadn't called, which was either a good sign or a bad sign, depending on what they had discovered in their investigation of the farmer's livestock. But at least she hadn't been missed. It was a relief to have been away from the monastery, honestly. The monks gave her the roaring creeps. There was something so sinister about men in black robes, most of them shaved bald, all of them very, very silent. She turned on the SUV and drove off into the darkness, casting glances in the rearview mirror, having sufficiently creeped herself out.

It wasn't until a half-hour into the drive, much of it spent yawning and blinking, trying to keep herself awake, that she actually saw something there.

In the rearview mirror. A shape in the middle of the road.

She slammed on the breaks and turned full around in her seat, peering through the back window into the darkness. There was nothing there. The road was completely empty. But she was _sure_ that she had seen something; some hulking shadow, standing in the wake of the SUV. She frowned, turning back around to the front.

It was there.

In the headlights, its eyes reflecting in shining yellow, stood a creature on two legs, taller than any human, lips along a long snout pulled into a horrible snarl, showing huge, deadly teeth.

"Crap," Gwen said, staring.

It opened its mouth and snapped it shut, growling.

"Crap crap crap crap crap crap-" Gwen scrambled at the center console, throwing the SUV into reverse and speeding backwards away from the thing, which only paused for a moment before pouncing after her, howling with a spine-chilling voice that made Gwen's teeth chatter with absolute, blind panic. She swung the car around and put it into drive – and it immediately died.

The gas was on "E".

Gwen hit the steering wheel. "Are you _bloody kidding me?_"

And then the creature hit the SUV.

It rocked on two wheels for a second and Gwen shrieked, terrified that it would flip over – but then it settled, and she looked out the window.

The creature was backing up to try it again.

Gwen dug into her pocket with shaking hands and pulled out her mobile, praying that they had service way out here in the middle of nowhere.

Three bars. Good enough.

She dialed Jack's number just as the creature hit the SUV again, throwing her out of the driver's seat and into the passenger's seat, hitting her head on the door.

Jack answered on the second ring. "Hey. You find anything?"

"There's a bloody werewolf attacking the SUV! _I think I've found something!_"

She heard the scrape of a chair. "Hold on, we're coming!" Then the line went dead.

Gwen curled up with her head against her knees in the passenger's seat, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, as another brutal blow sent the SUV on two wheels again.

"Hurry," she whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello! I rewrote the end of this fic. I like it a lot better this way. curriejean was a GIANT help in figuring out how to fix it. So, thanks for that.

* * *

They ran, Ianto's GPS pinging with the SUV's location, strapping on their guns as they went. Father Greer had shouted after them as they sprang out of their chairs, wanting to know what was going on, but they ignored him. Now, sprinting through the seas of tall, dead grass, Ianto wondered why there had been so much fear in his eyes as they left.

It didn't matter; once they reached the SUV, nothing really mattered at all except for the fact that there was a werewolf battering the sleek black car.

Jack reached out a hand to stop him from going closer, and they crouched down to be hidden by the grass. From out of Jack's coat came a pair of strange binoculars – Ianto had used them once; definitely alien – and Jack set them to his eyes, then let out a low whistle. "It's really a werewolf."

"You haven't seen one before?"

"First time for everything. You don't happen to have any silver bullets, do you?"

"Not handy, no."

Jack opened his mouth to say something, then his brow furrowed and he looked at Ianto. "Do we really have silver bullets back at the hub?"

"_Werewolf attacking the SUV at the moment."_

"Right." He looked back through the binoculars. "Well, silver or not, bullets ought to slow it down." He stored the binoculars away, took out his gun and made sure it was loaded. Ianto did the same. They looked at each other, nodded, then stood up at the same time and Jack shouted across the space, "Hey, Professor Lupin!"

The wolf turned, mid-charge, and growled low. The moonlight caught it in its crouch, highlighting the glistening wetness of its teeth as it drew its lips back into a snarl. It took a step toward them, lumbering on huge feet, haunches knotted with muscle, giving it the appearance that it could close the distance between them in three bounds and be on them almost instantly. Jack raised his gun. Ianto could see Gwen struggling to get the door to the SUV open while the creature was distracted, but he couldn't move to help her; its eyes were on his, a fierce and foreign intelligence held there, and he knew that if he moved he was dead.

Then, there was a voice.

"Halt!"

And they were suddenly surrounded by dark shapes, all of them wearing wreathes slung around their shoulders, all of them hooded but for one. Brother Ewan, the monk who had greeted them to the monastery, stepped in front of Jack and Ianto. "Lower your weapons."

"What if we're not so keen on that idea?"

"Then they will be lowered for you."

"I've never been threatened by a monk before. That's-"

Both Ianto and Jack were struck from behind at the base of the skull, and they fell to the ground, dropping their guns. The last things Ianto saw before he lost consciousness were the wolf fleeing, and two billowing robes heading for the SUV.

- - -

The first thing Ianto felt upon regaining consciousness was pain; it radiated through his head, from the top of his spine to the bridge of his nose. He moaned softly and opened his eyes. The room was dark; moonlight fell through a small grate in the ceiling, but there was no other source of light. He could faintly see the outline of Jack beside him – chained to the wall. He tried to move his arms.

Chained, too.

"Welcome back."

Ianto looked across the way; Gwen was against the opposite wall. She tapped the metal on her wrists against the stone behind her. "Jack will have something erotic to say about this."

Jack came to at that moment, starting violently and looking around, pulling at the chains. He looked up at where they met the wall. "Well, this is all pleasantly familiar."

Gwen snorted. "Seriously, Jack? Harry Potter?"

"I've had a lot of time to read." He was looking closely at his wrists, trying to find some fault in the metal. They were each chained by both arms and both legs, forced to stand with their backs to the wall. Ianto's knees were aching already.

"What were the monks doing out there with the werewolf?" Gwen asked.

"Hell if I know." He was now examining the shackles on his ankles, as close as he could with what little he could bend to see them. "Looked like they were protecting it."

Ianto stared up, out of the ceiling grate, watching the rays of moonlight falling in.

"The singing," he said suddenly.

Jack looked at him. "What about it?"

"I told you that there was something odd about their prayers this morning. It was Latin, so it didn't really occur to me then. But I know what they were saying now." He looked at Jack. "'Lupus Magnus Est, Lupus Fortis Est, Lupus Deus Est.'"

Jack took a breath. "The wolf is great, the wolf is strong, the wolf is God."

Gwen sounded shocked. "They worship a _werewolf_?"

"The question is, where the hell did they _get _a werewolf? And what is it, exactly?"

Jack's thoughts were cut off by the door swinging slowly open. A hooded figure entered.

Jack immediately started shouting. "Look, it's one of our bald little friends! Planning on letting us out of here any time-"

The monk held up one finger to silence him, then drew back his hood.

"Brother Greer," Ianto said.

He nodded, then said quietly, quickly, "If you promise not to hurt her, I'll release you."

"Hurt who?" Gwen asked. "Ianto, who is this?"

"Brother Greer," Jack answered for him, grimly. "The yo-yoing monk. I knew you were keeping something from us, Brother, but I didn't really expect a werewolf."

"Promise," Brother Greer said, slipping a key out of his pocket. "I'll take you out of here and explain everything if you promise now that you will do everything in your power not to hurt her."

"_Hurt who?"_ Gwen asked again.

Ianto met Brother Greer's eyes. "Blaine," he said. "Blaine is the werewolf." Brother Greer nodded.

Jack sighed. "We promise not to hurt her unless we absolutely have to."

Brother Greer hesitated, then nodded and went for Ianto's shackles first. "Most of the Brethren are out tracking her, but some stay behind to guard the monastery." He moved on to Jack. "You must be absolutely silent as we go. We'll head for the woods. Blaine – the wolf has been trained not to go there. They surround it with mistletoe. We'll be safe."

Gwen rubbed her wrists as Greer unshackled her ankles. "Who is Blaine?" she asked softly.

He straightened up and looked at her. "A girl," he said. "Just a lost little girl."

- - -

"I don't know exactly how they did it," Greer was saying as he led them further into the woods, away from the distant, hulking monastery. "It had been done for years before I came here. When an old host is about to die, they infect a new host. They were keeping Blaine just so that they could use her that way. I don't even know if it's true that they found her – they may have stolen her. But she was perfect for it. She couldn't run and tell anyone what they were doing to her." He said this last bitterly, swiping a branch out of his way. "Before I came they kept her locked in that room I broke you out of. They'd feed her and sometimes take her outside, but mostly she stayed down in the dark, crying."

He stopped in the middle of a clearing and turned to look at them as they silently listened. "I wasn't meant to stay here. I didn't know that this monastery had fallen from God. I was just passing through, but then I found her while I was exploring the place. They wanted to kill me to keep me from telling anyone about her. I didn't believe them about the wolf, but I promised not to say anything if they let me stay and take care of her. I meant to take her away from here the first chance I got." He shook his head. "And then the full moon came, and I saw for myself what they'd made her. And I knew that I couldn't take her away. So we stayed." He looked at them, imploring. "I don't worship her. She's just a girl. But I care about her, more than anyone, more than myself. I want to free her from what they've done to her, but I don't know how."

Jack looked him up and down, his face fiercely serious. "How did the wolf get here in the first place? You said there've been other hosts?"

Greer nodded. "It's passed on through a bite. I think it had to – mature, before it became fully-formed, the way it is now. I can't tell you how it works – I don't think that even the Brethren really know. But apparently something that fell from the sky about five hundred years ago, and it infected one of their own, and then slowly grew from host to host into this horrible monster. That was the first one, though."

Jack frowned. "There were two?"

Greer nodded. "One male and one female. The male matured more quickly, but it was killed – at Torchwood House, in 1879. By someone the Brethren call 'The Doctor'."

"We should have guessed," Gwen murmured.

Jack grinned. "I knew there was something interesting about that house. Do you know how he destroyed it?"

Greer shook his head. "The Brethren never said. But whatever did it – it killed the host." He swallowed. "There must be a way to keep Blaine alive."

Jack thought for a moment. "We need to find out what exactly this thing is." He reached into his pocket for his mobile, then flipped it open.

"Who are you calling?" Ianto asked, stepping closer.

"Old friend. With the nicest meaning possible, of course." He toggled the speakerphone.

It rang once. Twice. Then:

"Captain Jack! I haven't heard from you since the last time the world was ending."

"Good times, Sarah Jane."

There was a muffled shout from the background, "Is that Jack? Hello, Captain!"

"Hey kid! When are you gonna join my team?"

Sarah Jane, sharply: "Never, thank you, Jack. What can I do for you? This isn't a social call, is it?"

"Not so much, no. Are you near your supercomputer?"

"Never far." Sarah Jane's voice got a little further away. "Mr. Smith, I need you!"

The fanfare was audible over the phone.

Gwen asked, "Does it _always _do that?"

"He likes to give a bit of a show. Jack, don't you have your own semisentient computer system?"

"It's about nine hours away. Not exactly handy. We need help identifying a species of alien that crash landed here five hundred years ago. The Glen of Saint Catherine, Scotland. Reacts to moonlight, takes the form of a wolf."

They could hear Luke's excited voice drawing closer to the phone. "You've got a werewolf?"

"Plenty more where that came from, kid."

"Don't you tempt him, Jack Harkness. Mr. Smith, did you hear that?"

The computer voice said pleasantly, "Processing, Sarah Jane. The Glen of Saint Catherine. 'In 1540, under King James V, an almighty fire did burn in the pit.' Locals reported a falling star. When the initial conflagration was extinguished, no remnant of the meteorite was found."

"Anything about an alien that reacts to moonlight?"

"A lupine wavelength haemovariform. Reacts to the wavelengths of the light of the full moon by combining the host DNA with the alien DNA, creating a lupine hybrid. In human legend, this would be called a werewolf."

Jack asked, "Any idea how to stop it?"

"The lupine wavelength haemovariform draws its power from its originating source. The originating source of this haemovariform would be the lost meteorite."

"So if we smash the meteorite, it dies?"

"That is correct."

Brother Greer stepped forward, asking quickly, "Will it kill her? Will it kill the host?"

"This is a new voice." Mr. Smith sounded almost surprised, for a computer.

"It's fine, he's with us. Answer his question."

"The host will be fine if the meteorite is destroyed. The alien DNA inside of it will die without ill effect to the original human biology."

"There you go," Gwen said with a smile, laying her hand on Brother Greer's shoulder. "There's a way to do it."

"But it's lost," Ianto said, coming closer to the phone in Jack's hand. "The meteorite. You said they didn't find it. How do we know it's even in the area?"

"I am detecting an alien resonance approximately four miles west of your location. Exact coordinates 56.786603, -3.306727." Ianto already had his PDA out and was inputting the location.

He looked at Jack. "That's Torchwood House. The meteorite is in the basement of Torchwood House."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "How the hell did it get there?" To the phone, he said, "Mr. Smith, is there anything else we need to know?"

"No, Captain. I believe you are well informed on the situation."

"All right, thanks. Thank you, Sarah Jane."

"Be careful, Jack. Give me a ring when you get back to Cardiff, otherwise I'll worry."

Jack smirked. "Yes, mum."

"Careful, Harkness." She hung up.

Jack stored the phone away. "All right. So we have to find the alien meteorite that somehow ended up in the basement of a sixteenth century house that shares the name of our secret organization." He looked up at the sky. "The universe baffles me sometimes."

"The Star," Brother Greer said suddenly.

"Come again?" Jack said.

"The Star. The brethren spoke of it. I thought it was just a legend. They said the wolf told them about it, but they could never find it."

"It can _talk?" _Gwen asked, incredulously.

"Yes. The wolf has three forms – dormant, when it's daytime and Blaine is just Blaine. The time between sunset or sunrise and when it transforms is when the creature – the alien? Is it an alien, really?"

"Yep," Jack said. "Alien. You have no idea how many of these tired old ghost stories are explained by aliens." He grinned, obviously have a perfect idea of how many.

Greer shook his head, all of it too strange. "Well, it can talk then, before it transforms. And then there's just the wolf."

Jack nodded. "So we need to get down to the basement and destroy the Star, without the Brethren noticing. We'll have to walk." He looked out, through the trees, toward the west where he knew the vast, barren fields lay. "The SUV is about half a mile from here on the way. We'll stop there and gear up." He looked at Ianto. "The hidden cargo well is stocked with weapons, right?"

Ianto gave his best _what do you take me for_ expression and nodded. "Always."

"All right then." Jack looked around at them. "Let's go."

- - -

Jack positioned them as best he could for the walk to Torchwood House. Greer had refused a weapon, and while given his faith and his relationship to the wolf it was understandable, it was also incredibly stupid, and annoyed Jack to no end, and so he was in the lead, moving through the tall white grass with a tenseness of posture that resonated all the way back to Ianto and Gwen in the rear. They walked with their guns drawn low and pointed away to either side, eyes scanning the fields around them for signs of movement, for the shine of eyes. Once in a while Ianto would catch Gwen watching Greer as he walked ahead of them about twenty meters. The third time, he asked, "What is it?"

She looked at him, surprised. Then she shook her head. "He stayed," she said, low, once more watching the fields. "He saw what they were doing and how mad it was and he still stayed. To protect her." She looked back up at Greer again. "Man of faith." Ianto made a low grunt of disapproval. She frowned. "What?"

"Couldn't it just be that he's a good person?" He waved his hand behind them, back toward the monastery. "They're men of faith, too."

Gwen seemed to consider this. She watched the bounce of Greer's torch ahead of them. "You're right," she said, finally. "But, I don't know, Ianto. There are things that I would like to believe."

Ianto gave an uncomfortable roll of his shoulders. "I'd rather be in the dark forever than for what he believes to be true."

_In the dark_ forever took on a new meaning when Gwen exhaled a long, shaky breath. But it was still true. She asked, "You wouldn't want to see the people you've loved again?"

Ianto looked straight ahead. Greer's torch twenty meters ahead of them, Jack's torch ten meters ahead of that. "The only people there would be Tosh and Owen. And Lisa." He looked up at the sky, the stars bright, so much brighter than they could ever be in Cardiff with all of the light pollution. "I doubt they're anxious to see me." Gwen frowned, then closed the distance between them with a hand on his arm. He looked at her and smiled. "I'm sorry," he said. "You've more reason to believe than I do. I've never been one for suspension of disbelief."

"Science fiction movies must be rubbish for you, then."

"With this job? It's like crime drama."

This made Gwen laugh, and she rubbed her hand up and down his arm affectionately. Then, her eyebrows rose as something occurred to her. "Mistletoe," she said quietly.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"The house. It's full of mistletoe, on the walls. It's rubbed into the doors of the library." She dropped her hand away from him, thinking hard, legs still whisking through the grass. "And Greer said the werewolf reacts to it. Like it's trained to be allergic to it."

He frowned. "Why would someone have done that? They'd have to have known about the wolf." His eyes widened. "That house. It's where the Doctor killed the first wolf, with Queen Victoria. Maybe the people who owned it then knew about the monastery. They prepared for when the wolf would come."

Gwen was nodding rapidly. "They made one of the rooms safe."

"And that's why the meteorite, the Star -- that's why it's in the basement. MacLeish must have gotten it somehow."

"Then why didn't he destroy it in the first place?"

Ianto shrugged. "How would he know that destroying the meteorite would kill it? It might have made it worse. Has working for Torchwood taught you nothing about handling alien artefacts?"

Gwen waved this away with a smirk. "We've got to hide Louisa and Greer in the library when we get there. There's no telling when the wolf will come, and I don't want them getting killed on account of us." She raised her voice to call out, "Jack, we've--"

And then, a howl.

They all froze. The bouncing of torches stopped, the whisk of footsteps. The only sound was their breathing. And then, the howl again.

The crack of a branch, somewhere close.

Jack shouted, "Run!" And they did, torches bouncing crazily over the ground, breath frosting in the night air, footsteps pounding over the hard ground. Gwen stumbled, almost tripped, and Ianto grabbed her arm before she could lose her balance entirely, pulled her after him, almost rough, because the howl was there again, and closer, seeming to vibrate through his entire body, to clench over his heart. She righted herself and raced alongside him, her hand closed on his arm. He could hear her breath coming shallow and panicked, could feel his own heart pounding in the base of his throat.

And then, lights. Ianto never thought he would be so grateful to see lights in old windows looming not so far away.

Jack stopped ahead of them and urged Greer toward the house; Ianto and Gwen slowed, but he waved them on, shouting, "I'll buy you time. Go!"

"But--" Gwen started.

"GO!"

Ianto wasted no time; he sped up, pulling Gwen toward the house even as she looked back, even as she hesitated to see Jack standing there alone with his gun drawn and his torch pointed at the slowly parting waves of white grass. "Gwen!" Ianto shouted, and she looked away, looked toward the house with its lights, coming closer. Greer was already in the dirt drive. When they stepped foot there, they heard a horrific scream from behind them, Jack's voice ringing through the cold, empty air, and did not stop.

Gwen shouldered past Greer at the door and threw it open, urging both of the men inside before closing it and starting to shove anything close and heavy in front of it. Ianto helped, heaving a tall, ancient armchair. Greer went to a window. "Your friend!"

"He'll be fine," Ianto grunted, positioning a short bookcase in front of the door.

"But – I heard him! It killed him!"

"Again," Gwen said, setting a heavy marble bust onto the seat of the armchair, "don't worry about it."

"What's this?"

They all turned, surprised. Louisa stood in the doorway, clutching a fire poker in both white-knuckled hands, eyes wide on her pale face. Her lips trembled as she took them in.

Gwen put her hands up and slowly walked toward her. "Louisa. There's something out there. We're trying to find a way to stop it." She reached out a hand toward the poker. "Why don't you put that down so we can get you somewhere safe?"

Louisa looked back and forth from the tip of the poker to Gwen's face, earnest in the dim light from the wall-mounted lamps. Finally, slowly, she lowered the poker to her side. "What's out there?"

"It's difficult to explain." Gwen put a hand on Louisa's shoulder and squeezed. "I need you to go up to the library and barricade the door. It won't be able to hurt you if you're in there." Louisa began to protest, but Gwen held up her hand with a patient smile. "Trust me. It'll be all right if you're there. Here, Brother Greer will stay there with you--"

"I won't," said Brother Greer. Gwen turned to him, frowning, but he shook his head. "I'm here to help you. I won't be shut away. Not when Blaine's in danger."

Gwen looked to Ianto, whose impatience was obvious in the set of his shoulders, his hands on his hips the way they always were when he was flustered. It would be adorable if she weren't terrified, and if the wideness of his eyes and the height of his eyebrows didn't suggest that they get the hell on with it. "Fine," Gwen said, and turned back to Louisa. "You've got to go up to the library, Louisa. Please."

Louisa looked at all of them in turn, settling briefly on each of their faces. Then, finally, she nodded. "All right."

"Hurry," Gwen said, walking her quickly to the bottom of the stairs. "Barricade the door. Go!" Louisa ran. Gwen turned back to Ianto and Greer. "The basement, is it?" Ianto nodded. "Let's go, then."

The entrance to the basement was in the kitchen. Old countertops and stovetops gleamed in the moonlight through the windows as they made their way through, slipping quickly and quietly through the door and down the stairs. Ianto reached for the light switch and found nothing. He cursed softly, then pulled out his torch, looking at the others. They did the same, and with three audible clicks they were able to see in their beams of light stacks and stacks of dusty boxes, crates and trunks. Ianto heard Gwen's breath catch, and knew what she was thinking. _We're fucked._

There was a crash upstairs. A body against the front door. All three of them turned to look at the top of the stairs, breath stopping in their lungs. Another crash. Furniture scraping against the hardwood floor. Gwen silently slipped into the room and started to go through the nearest boxes, the light of her torch shaking with her hands, her eyes wide and almost unfocused, almost, but for the self-preservation that kept her grounded, kept her looking out for anything that might be the meteorite.

Ianto went past her, further into the room, trying to find any semblance of order in the chaos, any way of knowing where the owner a few centuries back might have stored a fallen star. Greer went past him with a much less controlled approach; he flipped open trunks and shuffled through drawers at random, his breath coming in shallow little gasps, his fingers drumming staccato on everything he touched. He tripped over a divot in the floor and kept moving.

Ianto heard when Gwen abandoned her silent search; it was when they heard the pile of furniture in front of the door topple over. They all threw any care away at that sound and attacked the piles of boxes in the dark with absolute desperation, digging through every bin and moldering carton their hands lit upon, fear clenching their teeth and driving their hearts into their mouths. There was nothing there, nothing that even _resembled_ a meteorite, and the basement spanned the entire house.

The basement door crashed open.

They all stopped, breath caught. They switched off their torches. There was a snuffling sound at the top of the stairs. Ianto grabbed Gwen and pulled her down behind a pile of trunks stacked haphazardly and heard Greer somewhere deeper in the room. The first stair groaned beneath the weight of the wolf. The second. The snuffling sound grew louder, and below it a constant panting. It was excited. Ianto's stomach clenched. Next to him, he could feel Gwen shaking in the dark. He could only imagine her face, eyes huge, lips pulled thin and trembling, pale. Her hand found his shoulder, then slid slowly down until her fingers wrapped in his. He squeezed their palms together, trying to keep his breath even and low, preparing himself to throw his body in front of hers if – when – the wolf should find them, to give her enough time to get up the stairs, to run and find Jack, wherever he was, sitting dead in the old white grass, scattered intestines shining in the moonlight.

The wolf reached the bottom of the stairs, and he felt Gwen move her other hand to her mouth to keep her breath from screaming out into the dank air. The wet sound of the wolf scenting for them came closer, and all Ianto wanted to do was squeeze his eyes shut and pretend that this wasn't actually happening, that he wasn't going to be killed by a werewolf in a basement in Scotland. _The joke about the sheep._

There was a green glow to his right.

He looked. From a wooden box hidden under a pile of dusty tomes, bright green light was seeping, through the seams between the lid and the body. Ianto watched, mesmerized, as the light became a little brighter. As the wolf came a little closer.

Fuck it. If he was going to die anyway, he might as well try.

He let go of Gwen's hand and threw himself at the box, sweeping the books away and fumbling with the clasps as he felt the wolf coming nearer, felt it moving in the dark somewhere close, the direction lost in the echo of its breathing. One clasp undone. Its shuffling footsteps drew nearer, and he could hear the tick of its claws on the stone floor. The other clasp, and he threw the lid open.

The meteorite glowed bright in the red velvet lining of the case. Ianto lifted it into both of his hands – it was heavy, much heavier than its size indicated. He hefted it and turned.

The wolf breathed into his face.

Ianto froze. The green light made the creature's wet mouth glisten, its teeth _(what big teeth you have)_ shining as it seemed to grin down at him, something akin to humor in its eyes. Saliva dripped down its chin and onto the floor at Ianto's feet.

He felt like his heart had stopped maybe a minute previous.

The wolf swept one clawed paw back into the air; Gwen cried out from her hiding place, _"Ianto";_ Ianto's brain tried to find some way to keep him from being killed in the next few seconds; there was a _snick_ from somewhere above, and the slither of rope through a pulley.

And a cage dropped down from the ceiling, trapping the wolf inside.

Ianto watched with his head spinning as the wolf recoiled away from the wooden bars and sat shuddering in the middle of the cage, still panting.

"Good job getting it into position."

Ianto turned. Jack stood on the stairs, holding a lantern, looking every bit the dramatic hero. "Yes," said Ianto. "That's exactly what I was doing." He heard Gwen let out a very shaky laugh.

Jack grinned, coming down the last few steps. "You weren't just standing there waiting to be killed?"

"Not at all." He hefted the meteorite. "Master plan."

"Sure." Jack's grin widened a little bit as he set the lantern on top of a box and lifted the meteorite out of Ianto's hands. He examined it, turning it this way and that, the light emanating from it making his eyes glow green. "It must activate when the wolf is nearby. Lucky and unlucky for us, I guess." He glanced up. "A couple seconds later and you would've been dog food."

"Lovely phrasing, thanks, Jack. It's touching, how much you care."

Gwen was walking around the outside of the cage. It was about five feet wide, six feet high. Her trainers prodded at the edge. There were the deeply carved edges of a square in the floor that the sides of the cage fitted neatly into. "To keep it from knocking it over," she muttered. She looked up, shining her torch at the ceiling. There was a pully system worked out from the top of the stairs to the place the cage hung. "Cut the rope, the cage falls." She touched the cage. "I think it's made of mistletoe."

Jack nodded. "Someone was expecting this." He looked back at the meteorite. "Now we've just got to destroy it."

"I would not speak so lightly, were I you."

All three of them turned toward the cage.

Inside, where once there had been the shuddering form of the wolf, curled in upon itself against the effects of the mistletoe, there was now Blaine. But not-Blaine. It was the form of the girl, but in no way did it resemble her; its eyes were black and wide, lips curled into a snarling sort of smile, jagged teeth visible and shining. Its voice was rough and wet. It shook its head. "No, I would not speak so."

Jack took the lantern and stepped toward the cage. He set it down and kneeled to be on eye level with the creature, frowning. "Why's that?"

"There is much that is beyond your understanding, Jack Harkness." It sniffed the air, head raised. "Although there is much that is strange about you, as well. I killed you once. Your own blood is still on you. How can that be?"

"I'm a pretty hard guy to kill." Jack came closer to the cage. "But you're changing the subject."

The creature grinned. Saliva dripped down the side of its mouth. "But I would know more about your nature. There is a scent on you that I recognize from centuries ago." It growled suddenly, low, eyes narrowing. "The woman who took my mate. There was something in her." It cocked its head, thoughtful. "There is something of the wolf in you, as well."

Jack grinned. "I like to think so." He lifted up the meteorite. "I'm still going to destroy it."

"No, you're not."

Jack whipped around, standing. There was a man in the edges of the lantern light, holding Ianto still with a knife against his throat. A rivulet of blood ran down Ianto's neck and pooled in his clavicle. Above the knife and the arm that held it, Ianto's face was furious.

"Brother Ewan," Jack said calmly.

Close by, Gwen stood with her gun aimed at Ewan, the sight shaking slightly in her hand, not with fear but with _outrage_.

"Harkness," Ewan said. "You will release the Star, or I will kill your catamite." Ianto couldn't help but roll his eyes at that, despite the threat of imminent death.

"What if I'm not so keen on either of those ideas?"

"Do _not _play games. It's your decision. The Star or the boy."

"How about both?"

Ewan opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the dull, sickening crack of a wrench hitting the side of his head. He crumbled to the floor, the knife falling from his hand. Behind him, Brother Greer stood looking vaguely ill, clutching the wrench in both hands and staring down at the fallen monk. He looked up, to Jack, his mouth slightly open, his expression shocked. Ianto stepped away, raising his hand to his neck, wincing. He looked back. "Thank you."

Greer could only shake his head.

Jack once more hefted the Star, looking at it closely. He looked over his shoulder. "Say your goodbyes while you can."

"You wouldn't," the creature said coolly, eyes narrowed into slits. "If you destroy the Star, the girl dies. You couldn't do that to an innocent child, could you?"

Jack looked at Greer.

Gwen stepped forward. "Jack, you can't just--"

"It's Brother Greer's decision."

Greer stared, eyes wide, still clutching the wrench.

"But she's just--"

"Gwen," Jack said. He looked at her. "Let Greer decide."

She stilled, but her face set angry and unforgiving.

Greer stared at the wolf in the cage. He took a breath. He let it out.

"It would be better for her to die than for her to be like this forever."

Jack nodded, then reached out to take the wrench from Ewan.

"Jack, you can't--"

Her protest didn't matter. With one final look at the creature sitting in its cage (it's eyes widening slightly, smirk fading), Jack dropped the Star on the stone floor, swung the wrench up into the air and brought it down with a huge _crack._

The cage exploded into moonlight.

A huge howl reverberated through the basement, and the gravel shriek of the not-Blaine creature, as beams of light poured out between the bars and all of them hid their eyes from it, far too bright to withstand.

When they turned back, the cage was nothing but splinters. And at the center, drawing herself up, was Blaine. She took them in for a moment, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Then she leapt to her feet and ran to Brother Greer, burying her face in his chest and crying.

The wolf was gone.

- - -

The first pink streaks of dawn found the monastery surrounded by police, monks being slowly led into waiting cars, handcuffed and head down. Jack, Gwen, Greer and Blaine watched from the top of a nearby hill. Jack looked to Greer. "They're being charged with killing the livestock and abusing Blaine. We've placed her into your care." Jack offered his hand. "Thanks for your help."

Greer looked at the hand, then shook it, briefly.

Gwen smiled, and reached out to rub Blaine's arm affectionately. She said to Greer, "If you need anything, just give us a call."

Greer cleared his throat, then looked down at the scene before them, the flashing lights of the police cars, the gleam of the monastery windows in the morning light. He shook his head and said quietly, "No. I don't believe I will."

Gwen's hand on Blaine's arm stilled, and she frowned. "Why?"

Greer looked at her. "This – this madness you lot trade in. I won't be part of it anymore. It's done. I don't want Blaine involved in any of it." He looked off to the west. "Thank you for saving her, for shutting them down, but – no. We're finished here." He took Blaine's hand and turned. "We'll stay at Torchwood House awhile, and then move on. There's nothing here for us and never was." He glanced back at them briefly. "Goodbye." And then he walked away.

Gwen stared after them.

Jack sighed, crossing his arms. "It's always the same way with that type. Give them what they ask for, they'll take it and run because the getting was too much for them."

Gwen glanced at him. "You would have killed her," she said quietly.

Jack looked at her, arms still crossed, gaze hardening slightly. "I would have."

"To kill the wolf."

Jack nodded.

Gwen stared at him, face blank. "This is a conversation we're never going to stop having, isn't it?"

Jack's gaze faltered slightly.

Gwen turned and stalked away, muttering, "I'll get the SUV." She started down toward the police cars to ask for a ride and petrol.

Jack watched her go, watched as finally the monks were all packed inside and the line of cars began to pull away and start toward actual civilization. It was only then, with the yard clear, as though nothing had ever disturbed it, that Jack noticed. Ianto had been gone for over an hour.

- - -

The colors through the stained glass windows were unchanged. They cast their bright shadows on the floor in much the same way they always had, while the silent, curving rays of dawn fell into the church and spread their shades along the slate. Jack found Ianto with his shoulder to a pillar, his eyes cast up the center aisle at the only other face lingering in the monastery. His boots echoed in the silence, and Ianto turned, his expression vacant.

"You disappeared," Jack said.

Ianto shook his head. "I was gathering our things. I take it Gwen's off to fetch the SUV?" Jack nodded. He reached out to touch the wound on Ianto's neck; Ianto drew back slightly, raising his own hand to cover it. "I'm fine," he said.

Jack frowned, but dropped his hand.

Ianto leaned back against the pillar again, letting out a long breath. "This place is going to fall to ruin, I suppose."

Jack smiled slightly at the phrasing, but turned his head to hide it. "It belongs to the government now. I don't know what they plan to do with it. Probably nothing." He glanced back at Ianto. "So, yeah. It'll fall to ruin."

Ianto nodded. Something about the nod said very clearly the words _dulce et decorum_ _est_. Jack's small smile returned. Ianto caught it and shook his head. "It isn't that."

Jack cocked his head a little. "Isn't it?"

Ianto frowned, and swept his arm in a short, stuttered arc to encompass the room. "This is just – this is the way that I like to think of them. Churches." He paused, dropping his arm and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "Beautiful shells."

Jack grunted shortly and followed Ianto's gaze. He took a breath, then recited, "'Power of some sort will go on in games, in riddles, seemingly at random; but superstition, like belief, must die, and what remains when disbelief has gone? Grass, weedy pavement, brambles, buttress, sky.'"

Ianto looked at him for a long moment. Then: "Stop reading poetry, Jack."

Jack choked a surprised laugh. "You aren't impressed with my memorization?"

"A lot of time to read," Ianto murmured. He shook his head. "But that is what I think."

Jack reached out again, and this time Ianto didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into Jack's touch, looking strangely absolved. Jack said quietly, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He sighed. "How about Blaine and Greer?"

"They'll be okay," Jack said. "They'll soldier on."

Ianto smirked briefly. Then his eyebrows went up, and he dipped his hand into his coat pocket and slowly, carefully, pulled out the flowers Blaine had decorated him with. They were tattered and sickly with the damage done by running and hiding and being held at knife point. He stared down at them, dull and shriveled in the light through the windows. "If I were anyone else, I'd lay them at the altar," he said quietly.

Jack shook his head. "They belong somewhere far away from here, just like her."

Ianto nodded, then carefully stored them back in his pocket. When he looked back up, Jack was looking pensive. He frowned. "What?"

Jack shrugged. "Gwen just--" He sighed.

Ianto's smirk returned. "She still wants you to be her knight. To ride in and save the day and have the purest, clearest morals known to man." He shook his head. "I don't know that she'll ever give up on you." He hesitated, gaze sliding off of Jack's face. "And I don't know that I want her to." Jack frowned and opened his mouth to ask, but Ianto shrugged, uncomfortable, continuing in spite of it. "I think that her neverending faith in your being human keeps you reasonably in line. It keeps you from--" He gestured loosely, gaze rising again. "It keeps you from playing God."

Jack considered this seriously, watching Ianto keep his face steady. Finally, he only shrugged. "We should get moving. Gwen'll be back soon."

Ianto nodded. "I'll get the bags." He turned, but Jack caught his wrist and turned him back into a kiss. When he stepped away, Ianto blinked at him. "What was that for?"

Jack grinned. "Soldiering on."

Ianto laughed. It echoed in the church. "Bags," he said, then continued away, disappearing down the hall.

Jack turned, his eyes sweeping the walls, the pews, the altar and unlit candles. He took a long breath. Then he went off toward the door, to go outside. To stand in light untempered by color.


End file.
